


(Maybe I’m Supposed To) Make You Feel Better

by mrfreddyjones



Series: Dark Blue [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Referenced past abuse, Spoilers for S02E03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrfreddyjones/pseuds/mrfreddyjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So I should be a hero, like you, Barry?” It hurt him to listen to that, and all he wanted for Barry to shut up and leave him alone. All he wanted was for the hero to stop trying to save him. “What exactly does that pay again?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Maybe I’m Supposed To) Make You Feel Better

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Dark Blue by No Doubt

“The last time I was in Iron Heights, I was visiting my dad,” Barry tried to sound nonchalant about it, but Len could see right through it.

“Yeah, me too” he said, hiding behind the same wall as the Scarlet Speedster. They were sitting in front of each other, closer than they’d ever been, but at the same time, further apart than they’d ever been. They spoke through a phone, and were separated by a thick glass. Gone was the Flash uniform, replaced by civilian clothes, and gone were Len’s civilian clothes, replaced by a uniform.

“And yet, you killed him.” It didn’t sound like a question, but it was one none the less.

“He deserved it” Len said, to himself almost as much as to Barry Allen. Barry Allen, who smiled and nodded like he knew something. Len’s heart was racing again, racing still. He thought it would’ve gone away by now, now that his father can never get to him again. “Is that _funny_ to you?”

“No,” Barry sighed. “What’s funny is: I finally figured out your secret”

The kid was gloating. He’d come all the way down to prison to _gloat_.

“And what secret would that be?” Len’s vision got blurry with tears, but he refused to let them out. Through the glass, Allen wouldn’t be able to tell he was holding them back, and if this kid was really that much of an asshole – that he’d find out about Len’s past, that he’d figured out _why_ and come over to _brag_ – then he would make sure not to give him the satisfaction.

“You’d do anything to protect your sister.”

He couldn’t help the smile on his lips, or how his heart calmed down just a little. Still not down to its normal pace, but not as fast as he supposes Allen’s must be. Still, he didn’t let his guard down, for a whole other reason now. Len could see where this was going.

The kid was gloating because he thought he saw something, something that wasn’t there. And if he gave this guy, this _hero_ the false hope, if he let Allen believe that what he thought he’d saw was really there, then he’d try to _save_ him. And that wouldn’t end up well for any of them.

“Well, I know your secret, too” he said, keeping a straight face. “Better hope I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“You won’t,” Allen dismissed the idea so easily, it astonished him. This was the kid he’d betrayed, the man who’d believed him once and who’d gotten screwed over for his troubles. The same man was now so certain that Len wouldn’t throw him under the bus. It  made the criminal want to scream, want to reach through the glass and hold him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. _I’m a criminal. We’ve_ already established _that you_ can’t _trust me!_ “Today just _proved_ what I’ve always known: There’s good in you, Snart” Len wanted to flinch. He hated that name.

It was getting harder for him to hold back the tears, with the only eye witness to him _killing his own father_ being so damn blind.

“You don’t have to admit it to me, but there’s a part of you that knows you don’t have to let your past define you.” This kid didn’t know what he was talking about. Didn’t know that Len’s past was the _only_ thing to ever define him. Didn’t know that he was so filled with anger, so covered in scars, so _constantly afraid_ , that there was no Len left without his past. “A part of you that really wants to be more than just a criminal”

“So I should be a hero, like you, Barry?” It hurt him to listen to that, and all he wanted for Barry to shut up and leave him alone. All he wanted was for the hero to stop trying to save him. “What exactly does that pay again?”

“It’s just a matter of time,” Barry said, refused to let go, and there it was, that stupid grin again. Like he had some inside joke with himself. “Something you’ll have a lot of, in here.”

“Not as much as you think,” he replied, dryly. He could have all the time in the world, it wouldn’t make a difference. He let his eyes linger over Barry’s face, over that stupid look of _hope_ in his eyes, how the hero believed so strongly that he was _worth_ saving. How wrong the kid was. “Be seeing you”

 

* * *

 

Barry was back a week later.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Len sighed, tired.

“I came to see you,” Barry replied, shrugging, as if it were obvious – it was.

“ _Why_?” he questioned.

Barry laughed again. “You know why,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m not giving up on you.”

Len rolled his eyes. This guy had no self-preservation instincts, it would seem. “You _saw me_ _kill my father_ ,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What else do I need to do to prove to you that I’m trouble. _Should I put on a yellow suit pretend to be in a wheelchair_?”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. Although neither of them had moved, he could see the wincing in Barry’s eyes.

“Lisa told me,” Barry said, his voice cold, before hanging up and walking away.

 

* * *

 

The week after that, Len was surprised to see Barry Allen again.

“You’re back,” he said, voice dull and even, but there was a gleam in his eyes. “Didn’t realize you were a masochist”

Barry just shrugged. Didn’t say anything this time – didn’t have to. Len wanted to ask what Lisa had told Allen, what he _thought_ he knew. He wanted to ask if Barry was there out of pity – if he wanted so desperately to save him because he thought Lewis’ actions somehow excused Len’s. That made him want to scream.

Instead, neither of them said anything, for the rest of the visitation.

 

* * *

 

That was repeated for three more weeks. It had become a routine, already. Len would be brought into the visitations room, sit across from Barry, on the other side of the glass, and they’d look at each other without saying a word. Barry was waiting for him to talk, and Len was waiting for Barry to give up. But on the fourth week, their routine was disturbed.

Barry walked in to find Len with a black eye and a busted lip. Len saw the way the hero’s eyes widened, the split second between seeing and realizing what he’d saw, and he was surprised to find not pity, but anger. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

“What, no _hello_ today?” He teased, keeping up his cool facade.

“I’m serious,” Barry hissed. “Who the _fuck_ did this to you?”

_Great_. The hero wanted to protect him. “I did,” he said, and he hated how easily the words came out after all these years. “I slipped in the shower. _Oops_ ”

Barry narrowed his eyes. “We’re getting you out of here,” he said, then, voice strained, a hiss. “Tonight. Be ready”

That caught him by surprise. “What? _No_ ”

“I’m _not_ letting you _die_ in here, Snart-” Barry continued to hiss, and the criminal wanted to smack him in the head.

“Shut _up_.”

“I can be in and out before anyone sees me-” he continued, ignoring the glare from Len. “We can be in Coast City in less than three minutes-”

“No,” he said again, a bit louder, and then, just as Barry was about to say something else: “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I _deserve_ to be here? That I _killed a man_ and now I’m paying my debt to society”

Barry blinked, mouth hanging open just slightly. “He _deserved_ it”

“Not from me,” he said, lips pressed into a thin line.

“He- Snart, that man was a monster. The things he did to Lisa, the things he did to _you_ -” Barry began again, and Len wanted to ask how he knew about them. He wanted to ask if Barry and Lisa were friends now, if they got together on weekends to discuss childhood trauma over coffee.

“He didn’t _kill_ me,” he said, instead, and his heart was racing again, hands beginning to shake. Barry would see it, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself. “He did _horrible_ things but he never killed me. I had _no right_ to do what I did.”

He slammed the phone against the hook, getting up. Barry just watched him go, at a loss of words.

 

* * *

 

The following week, when Barry came back, he found out the criminal had had him removed from his visitors list. Barry Allen was no longer allowed to see Leonard Snart.


End file.
